


Bookmark

by DameRuth



Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I wish Martha had been given more info like this in canon - it might have helpd things out a little, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: The TARDIS has something to show Martha, in the Library.[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2007.04.25.]
Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805668
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Bookmark

**Author's Note:**

> This image got into my head, to the point where I had to write it down. And I thought Martha deserved a moment of Girl Talk with the other "girl" in the mix . . . This was also a fun excuse to describe the Library (as I envision it) just a little futher. :)
> 
> * * *

"Ah! _There_ it is!" the Doctor said triumphantly, throwing open the door in front of them. "The Library! That's where she put it."  
  
"Who put it?" Martha asked, somewhat irritably. She'd been excited when the Doctor offered to show her the TARDIS Library, so she would have something to do while he worked on some obscure mechanical issue the timeship was having. However, the excitement had worn off during the long hunt to _find_ the Library.  
  
"The TARDIS," the Doctor told her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I told you she was sentient."  
  
"I thought that meant she just had really good AI," Martha said.  
  
The Doctor gave her one of his sidelong half-smiles. "She's got prosthetic computers," he replied, "but at her heart she's no more an AI than you are. That's worth remembering, by the way. Anyway, the Library!" He gestured her grandly into the room.  
  
It was worth a grand gesture. Martha stepped inside and froze in shock. The place was _huge_ \-- the vaulted ceiling vanished in darkness, high above, and she could see at least one railing-edged gallery running around the upper walls. Shelves and shelves tightly packed with books and other media, little nooks with tables and chairs and desks -- and that was just what she could see from the entry. The lighting was dim and comfortable, various lamps providing pools of brighter light for reading. Everything was hushed, the background hum of the ship less noticeable than in any of the other rooms Martha had seen so far.  
  
The overall effect was of a Gothic cathedral renovated into a book lover's paradise.  
  
"Wow," she said finally, meaning it.  
  
The Doctor grinned, obviously pleased by her reaction. "Right then! I should be done in about, oh, four hours or so. Meet me back at the control room. You remember the way, yes?"  
  
"Yeah," Martha told him, still gazing around the Library.  
  
"If you get lost, remember what I told you. You can always ask for directions -- politely! -- out loud, and then follow your hunches. The TARDIS'll look after you. She likes you, you know."  
  
Distracted from the Library, Martha frowned at him. "What do you mean, she likes me? How do you know?"  
  
He rubbed thoughtfuly at his earlobe. "Weeeeeell, while you've been here, you haven't had the unpleasant feeling of being watched all the time, have you?"  
  
Martha shook her head.  
  
"No footsteps sneaking up on you, but when you turn around, there's nobody there? No little dark things scurrying around the edges of your vision? No half-heard voices whispering terrible secrets or making rude comments about your ancestry . . .?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"All right then -- she likes you." He beamed at Martha, and turned to go. Then he stopped, with an afterthought.  
  
"Oh, and mind the green sofa in the far corner. It shapes itself to fit whoever's sitting in it -- quite comfortable, really, but some people find it disconcerting. See you in four hours!" He winked, and was gone.  
  
Dazed, Martha turned back to the Library and wondered where she could possibly begin. Then she remembered an earlier comment of the Doctor's, about the seventh Harry Potter book . . .  
  
_It's not really cheating,_ Martha thought to herself. _After all, the book will be out in July -- my July. I'm just getting a sneak preview . . ._  
  
Of course, there was the question of how to find one book in this ocean of reading material. There didn't seem to be any sort of cataloging system.  
  
"Trust your hunches" he'd said. But how did that work?  
  
Martha began to walk, aimlessly, and without really thinking about it, reached out to trail a fingertip along the spines of the books on the nearest shelf.  
  
With a bump, her finger caught on a book that hadn't been pushed in quite flush with its neighbors. Curious, Martha stopped to see what it was. To her surprise, it was a contemporary paperback. something popular and even a little on the pulp-romance side. Not what she'd expected to find in this literary Wonderland, that was for sure -- she couldn't even begin to imagine the Doctor reading anything of the sort.  
  
_Still, he reads Harry Potter, and I wouldn't have expected_ that _, either,_ she thought. On a whim, she pulled the paperback from the shelf.  
  
Once she had it out, she could see that a bookmark had been placed about two-thirds of the way through the pages. She riffled through to the marked spot, and the bookmark fell out into her hand. Reflexively, she caught it -- and when she saw what it was, it had her complete and total attention.  
  
It was a photo strip, the kind one got at a coin-operated booth. One of the two people in the pictures was the Doctor. The other, Martha realized in a heartbeat, must be the famous (or infamous) Rose Tyler.  
  
Her first thought was to be surprised at how young Rose was -- younger than her, it looked like. The second was to think that she didn't look anything like what Martha had expected. Too much makeup, big flashy earrings . . . a little like Annalise, truth be told. And pretty. . .  
  
Martha looked more closely, studying the small images.  
  
The first picture was the Doctor and Rose looking at the camera, both smiling -- fairly conventional, really.  
  
In the second picture, Rose was turned partly towards the Doctor, with a cheeky grin on her face, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. He was laughing, head thrown back and eyes closed, showing off an impressive array of white teeth. Clearly, he was responding to something Rose had said.  
  
The third picture was a confused blur, as if it had caught a tussle in progress.  
  
In the fourth and final picture, Rose and the Doctor were again facing the camera -- with their arms around each other, pressed cheek to cheek, both grinning maniacally, and giving each other rabbit ears.  
  
Martha looked at that last picture for a long time.  
  
It was clearly him, but she didn't see _how_ it could be him. He looked so open, so young. If it weren't for the fine lines around his eyes and on his forehead, she would have said he was no older than Rose in those pictures. They could have been two teenaged best mates, out for a rambunctious day on the town. It simply didn't match up with the man who had left her here in the Library -- _he_ was all dark corners and unexpected spiky pain; brittle cheer and driven, grinning mania.  
  
She couldn't imagine him looking this . . . happy.  
  
Automatically, Martha flipped the strip over. On the back was a brief note, written in a rounded, feminine hand:  
  
_Us. Paris trip, 1960._  
  
_Us._ Such a casual, simple pronoun, that implied so much -- their togetherness a perfect given.  
  
There was a soft creak behind her, and Martha jumped, adrenalin slamming into her bloodstream. She guiltily jammed the photo strip back into the book and whirled around, expecting the Doctor to be standing there . . .  
  
. . . But there was no one. She was alone in the Library.  
  
Or was she?  
  
Suddenly angry, Martha shoved the book back into place on the shelf, and looked around. For lack of anywhere better, she ended up glaring into the shadows that hid the ceiling.  
  
"Right!" she whispered, fuming, too upset to feel silly for speaking to the air. "What was that, then? Trying to tell me what I'm not? Trying to show me just how wonderful Rose-bloody-Tyler was?"  
  
When the answer came, it was a shock. There were no words, no voice, nothing that she could pin down, but it was still _communication_.  
  
_I wanted to show you,_ it told her, _so you would understand._ Despite Martha's anger, the tone of the unvoiced reply was calm, and even a little sad.  
  
Martha's breath huffed out of her, anger gone in an instant, and she leaned against the bookshelf for support.  
  
_He lost everything,_ she thought, remembering his anguished requiem for his home planet in that cold, distant alleyway. _Then he had Rose . . . and he lost her, too, somehow._ She closed her eyes, and she could still see his youthful, laughing face from the photographs. To feel that, and then have it gone . . .  
  
"Thank you," she whispered after a moment. "I think . . ."  
  
The TARDIS hummed at her, something only slightly above the subliminal, but friendly all the same.  
  
This wasn't going to be easy, traveling with the Doctor. He had so many scars to deal with . . . but it was good to know there was someone on her side.  
  
Martha smiled a little.  
  
Remembering her original notion, she looked back up at the ceiling and cleared her throat. "Actually, I was hoping to find the seventh Harry Potter book -- _The Deathly Hallows._ I don't suppose you could point me in that direction . . .?"  
  
Even before she finished speaking, she could feel an insistent tug in her head that said _this way!_ in no uncertain terms.  
  
Smiling broadly now, Martha followed the impulse, deciding to check out the green sofa while she was at it. She thought she might just be developing a liking for all this alien stuff.  
  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=11875>


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